


Better Than Your Earth Boys

by bokeh



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokeh/pseuds/bokeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor’s self-control finally slips. Clara isn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Your Earth Boys

Clara blames all the romance novels she’s read.

One moment she’s idly watching the Doctor look through the TARDIS databanks, keying something into the console with his long fingers. She’s leaning against the other side of the console, waiting for them to take off so that their next adventure can begin.

While she’s waiting, her mind wanders to a story she read last week, in which the protagonist falls utterly in love with his friend but believes it to be unrequited. She particularly liked the part where the protagonist observes the object of his affections and cannot forget that he’s fantasised about that man’s fingers doing _things_ to him.

(Clara will only ever admit to reading romance novels. She certainly does _not_ read slash fic. That isn’t why she always carries her phone with her. That isn’t what she reads while she’s waiting for the Doctor to come and save her _again_.)

She idly watches as the Doctor wraps the fingers of one restless hand around the other, lost in thought as he peruses the information that’s come up on the screen. And then she realises: so has she. She’s thought about those fingers. And right there is another thing that she will never admit: all the things that she would like the Doctor to do to her, exactly where she has imagined him touching her with those strong yet gentle, old but beautiful hands.

It’s just as well that Clara has a good poker face, because the Doctor chooses that moment to look up at her and ask, “So. The Vale of Crystal Grass?”

*

It’s a slow, yet inevitable process. Every time the Doctor loses her and finds her again he holds her a little closer, a little longer. Until he’s wrapping his entire body around her, his face buried in her hair, like somehow she is oxygen itself. And every time he looks at her he smiles at her adoringly. Sometimes he even raises his eyebrows with a smirk like he wants to take her to bed right this minute, and she wonders at how he seems to not realise that he’s doing it.

Until one time he kisses her.

It’s on a planet which has ridiculously long days, four times as long as normal Earth days, where the locals take what feels like forever to get anything done. So they’ve been up for four days without any sleep when, planet saved from certain destruction, they finally get back inside the TARDIS.

The instant that they’re inside the door, he wraps his arms around her with a _my Clara_ , which by now Clara knows to really mean _my Clara you’re safe what would I do if anything happened to you_ , and pulls her close to him. He always waits until they’re alone before he does this. She thinks that he doesn’t want anyone else to see this side of him, this gentler, more fragile side, not the brusque, impatient man who fights monsters and saves entire worlds.

The Doctor pulls back from her a little, still clutching her shoulders, and maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation, but she thinks she can see all his fear of losing her and all his devotion to her in that one look.

He kisses her like he might lose her to some unseen danger if he doesn’t.

It takes her by surprise, and before she can properly kiss him back he pulls away again, staring at her in open-mouthed shock. “Clara, I, I,” he says, letting go of her to wave his hands around in consternation.

Clara needs to rectify this, and fast. She takes hold of one flailing hand, then the other.

“Doctor,” she says firmly, and waits for him to look at her. “You,” she says, looking him deliberately in the eye, “are going to show me exactly how good a lover this Time Lord really is.” She’s taking a risk here, but she’s seen just how competitive he can be.

“I can’t, I shouldn’t, you’re human, it’s not allowed.”

“It’s not like you’ll be changing the future, or changing time. Or are you just not _clever_ enough to know how to please a woman?” she asks, smiling up at him, knowing full well that she’s just issued a challenge.

“Of course I _know_ ,” he mutters. “Clara–”

But she’s already reached up, twisted her fingers through his grey curls and pulled him down for another kiss, cutting off his attempt at a complaint. He doesn’t pull away this time, kissing her back fiercely. After a little while he allows himself to touch her again, first brushing his hands through her hair, then down over her shoulders. When one hand slides down to caress her breast, she thinks, _finally_.

The Doctor continues to stroke her reverently, still having made no attempt to remove her dress. Clara would quite like him to start ripping her clothes off, but she doesn’t want to spook him by moving too fast. Fortunately, it’s not long before he’s gently sliding his hands further down her dress, down the outside of her thighs.

On his knees now, he strokes the tips of his fingers underneath the hem of her skirt and asks, “Please?”

She nods, and he pulls down her knickers and tosses them across the control room. Clara’s just glad that she’s wearing a decent pair today, and not the ones that are literally falling apart at the seams. Not that the Doctor notices. He slides his hand back up and gently slides a finger over her clit, and she gasps.

He growls something that might be _Clara_ , straightens up as much as he can, and pushes her back against the inside of the TARDIS doors. He adds another finger and begins to stroke her clit properly. In no time at all she’s wet as he moves his fingers expertly over her. Clara can’t help the moans that escape her; it turns out that this particular Time Lord knows exactly how to do this.

He continues to slide his fingers exactly where she wants them, needs them, and he must be able to feel the heat building there now. He increases the pressure just a little, which elicits more gasps from her, and she knows that she’s close. But as much as she’s enjoying this, she doesn’t want to come like this.

“Wait,” she says, and the Doctor immediately looks at her, unsure. “I want you inside me.”

It takes a moment before his face breaks out into something in between absolute joy and unbridled lust, and he picks her up and carries her over to the console, setting her down on an edge with the least inconveniently placed buttons and levers. Although he’s still holding on to her with one hand, she’s forced to hold onto his shoulders for support so that she doesn’t slide off. With his free hand he unzips himself and pulls out his cock, which, Clara is relieved to see, looks the same as a human one.

She glances up again to see him already ripping the edge off of a foil packet with his teeth. He grins at her wolfishly, pulls out the condom within and rolls it one-handed onto his cock.

“ _Clara_ ,” he growls, positioning himself so that she can feel the tip of his cock pressing against her. “I’m going to fuck you better than any of your Earth boys ever have,” he says, his accent becoming more and more Scottish with every syllable.

Clara just gives him a look that says _get on with it then_.

He finally pushes inside her in one long, slow movement. She lifts her legs, which didn’t quite reach the floor anyway, and wraps them around his hips to steady herself. In doing so, she has to kick aside his long black coat which he still hasn’t taken off in their rush.

“Clara,” he growls as he thrusts deep inside her. “My Clara.”

It’s everything she imagined it to be and more. He’s finally giving her what she’s wanted for so long, what he’s been denying himself for so long. She was wet before, but now unstoppable heat builds within her.

“I _know_ ,” he growls, fucking her slowly, rolling his hips on every thrust in a way that makes her gasp, “ _what I’m doing_.” And oh god, he does. His voice, which is a turn-on at the best of times, has now become a low rumble that makes her shiver.

She’s close, so close already. “Oh god, Doctor,” she begs, “please–”

“I’m going to make you come harder than you’ve ever come before, _Clara Oswald_ ,” he vows. He pauses to kiss her again, more desperate this time, then presses a trail of kisses down her neck.

He pushes into her again, and she cries out his name as she comes, riding wave after wave as it hits her, watches his face as he finds his release, too. After, he holds her steady on the edge of the console as they both catch their breath, and she resists the urge to pull him closer to her, to reach out and stroke her hands through his soft curls.

Looking a little stunned, the Doctor gently lets her down off the console. He zips himself back up but doesn’t step back. Clara looks up into his face and can see every word that he’s about to say in his beautiful, expressive face. _We shouldn’t have done this. I can’t be with you. You’re human._ And she doesn’t want to hear him say any of it, words that she wouldn’t believe anyway, words that he seems to think he has to say out of some sense of duty.

“I,” he begins. Lost. Unsure. Guilty.

“You,” says Clara, giving him the biggest, brightest smile she can muster, “were amazing.” She is rewarded with his utter confusion.

Clara needs to distract him. She turns back to the console. “However,” she says, “I _may_ have knocked that dial there just a little bit…,” giving him her best innocent face and gesturing to a particularly protruding dial that she suspects is important in some way.

“No!” exclaims the Doctor. “If that’s changed while we’re parked, the whole ship could break up!” He reaches for one of the overhead screens, quickly pulls it round to face him, and begins to check the ship’s readings.

Clara steps back and just watches him for a little while, as he reassures himself that they are not, in fact, about to disintegrate. She’ll sneak off to bed well before he remembers to continue their conversation.

He’s not an easy man to win. But then again, Clara’s never liked easy.


End file.
